Howdy
Holidays to you,
I'm looking out my window onto the fright of
what has become modern Christmas decorating.
What I'm referring to of course, are five
giant, horrifying, plastic blow-up St.
Nicks. Two in one yard, a Frosty and three
more Santas in another yard. Apparently,
there was a sale at Costco and it has cost
me dearly. Does there really need to be a
gang of Santas? Now, in order to remain
cheerful, I must squint my eyes when I'm
coming and going. "Don't see no cheap
plastic Santy Claus, don't see no cheap
plastic Santy Claus. . . " is my constant
mantra.

When I was nineteen years old I took a job
working at a Christmas tree lot. A blizzard
had come that December in Amarillo and the
city was almost shut down for a couple of
weeks. My little car died a horrible death
and was buried under a pile of snow by the
city snowplows, leaving me to ride a bicycle
in the crusty snow to work every day. Now,
that could have been a deeply depressing
thing, but remember, I was nineteen. Nothing
could hold me down. I lived in a
fifty-dollar-a-month upstairs apartment. My
dishes grew moldy in the kitchen sink. All
my friends were in college or had great
paying jobs. But I, my friends, had freedom
- and the new Elton John album, so life was
good. I was thrilled to work in the snowy,
Christmassy outdoors every day, hauling
trees from box cars, trimming them, carrying
them to cars and tying them on with twine
while little children fogged up the glass in
joy. Life had meaning and I was filled with
Christmas spirit.

I had very long hair (down to my ankles) in
those days and I liked how mature I looked
after the snow fell onto it and gave me that
streaked, salt and pepper look. Remember
when it was fun to look in mirrors? Whee! I
couldn't pass one up no matter what was
going on. Every shiny car window was a
chance to dig my manly countenance and
think, "dang! This growin' up bidnis is
turnin' out alright!" Of course, when I look
back at the few surviving photographs from
that era, I do wonder about my astigmatism.
It's hard for me now to see the great
promise that I felt was reflected back to me
from hubcaps and chrome bumpers around town.

I was thinking about those ancient days
recently. Caught up in holiday traffic and
not really feeling all that merry. I was
trying to remember how certain Christmases
of my life felt. The one I spent working on
Big Mountain Ski Resort in Whitefish,
Montana. Several I've spent around a
campfire with friends in the snow, on the
shore of the Skykomish River here in the
Cascade Mountains. The year I was taken
blindfolded up a mountain trail in the
Colorado Rockies and then put on a sled as
lights lit up a slick path through the woods
so that I could slide all the way back down
the mountain. Those were some extraordinary
Christmases.

The traffic was still frozen and, as I came
back from my reverie, I realized that I was
looking at someone but not quite registering
what I was seeing. I looked again and saw a
little old lady, the wispiest of figures,
stooped over her tiny walker and making the
slowest possible progress a person could
make and still call it moving. At first, my
heart skipped, thinking about her hardship.
My mom had sometimes used a walker in her
last years too, and I thought of her and how
it hurt to see her so slowed down. But then
I noticed that this sweet elderly gal had
piled a couple of Douglas fir boughs upon
her walker. She was making her way home to
decorate for Christmas! I was actually
getting a lump in my throat when I noticed
the most beautiful thing of all; stretched
out ahead of her, taut and straight, was a
twenty foot leash attached to her miniature,
brown and black dachshund! I swear! You
could not have imagined a more touching
Christmas story than that little pooch
tugging like the dickens, helping his sweet
old master scoot that walker inches at a
time back to their house, where they were
clearly going to eat pork chops and decorate
those fresh boughs of fir.

I don't even remember driving the last few
blocks home. The sight of two of them - two
true friends - still filled my eyes. I was
thinking how impossibly beautiful it was
that someone in her frail, late years of
life, had so much Christmas spirit that she
would take a trek with her sweet pooch and
her walker in order to gather some lush
evergreen branches to string with popcorn
and ribbons. I'd bet you just anything she
didn't have no dang cheap, plastic blow-up
Santa at her house.

So that, friend, is my very small Christmas
moment for you today. I was blessed getting
to see such a sight and now you're being
blessed with seeing it in your own mind. I'm
hoping that it will touch your heart, give
you a feeling of love and joy that in this
time of chaos and confusion and fear in our
world, there is also a little old lady and
her loyal pooch who are going to celebrate
the joy and peace of Christmastime, no
matter how difficult the task. Maybe we can
all do something in these coming days that
will spread a little of that hope. Maybe we
can touch someone or offer up a smile and a
"Merry Christmas" to someone not expecting
it at all. It doesn't matter what religion
you are - or if you have none at all. Merry
Christmas is another way of saying, "I wish
you joy and love and a big, soft, open heart
this season!"

That's what I wish for you and your family,
your friends, your pets, every living thing
you see around you. Thanks so much for your
support with my music and your beautiful
encouragement since I have been so blessed
to have found the true love of my life. You
have been extremely generous and kind.

Your grateful friend in the land of plastic
Santas, ~Michael

PS, my love, Patricia, taped, edited and
posted two of my new songs on YouTube;
Things That I Don't Know & Seattle Skies

What folks have written about:

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp The Way Out West&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp The Way Out West&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp The Way Out West

(you may even recognize an excerpt
from your own letter)

Michael, just listened to the new CD and OH
MY GOD you have nailed down some of the most
beautiful songs to come down the line in
ages and ages... This New CD "The Way Out
West" may be the trophy of all your CD's up
to date. ~ Greg

You've caused me to be up two or
three times at night humming,
playing one song over and over in my
car, and now making me start a quest
to learn every note of "One Way
Through." I suppose if I have to be
obsessive about something . . . But
dang you, did you HAVE to make it so
witty and catchy at the same time? I
mean come on, one or the other! Not
both IN ONE DARNED SONG?!?!?! ~
Dean

Michael, everything from the gorgeous art
and packaging, all the way down to the
booklet of lyrics, speaks of a very soulful
collection of songs. After listening several
times, I can't even begin to pick a
favorite. Every song is amazing! ~ Anne

I just finished listening to your new CD,
The Way Out West, and wanted to let you know
how thoroughly I'm enjoying it. The songs
are truly a beautiful compilation of lyrics
and music. A very moving CD. ~ Harvey

Your CDs arrived in the mail yesterday and
I spent my morning drive to work, tears
rolling down my cheeks and smiles on my
face, listening to your songs. Flag of Human
Kindness is a deep and simple and truly
beautiful song, one I will share with many
friends, an anthem for our times, for our
hearts. ~ Jeri

It is a beautiful album, bright, colorful
and such a gift to the world, Michael . . .
we all just sat in the living room that
first night, mostly with our eyes closed,
and we absorbed it all into our souls while
your music floated around us. ~ Kandi

What a gift you have given the world with
your new CD. 'The Way Out West' is a sheer
joy to experience. And I must tell you, a
truly emotional one at that. ~ Charles

Hi Michael, I received The Way Out West in
the mail the other day. Like all of your
other cds, and I do have them all, this one
did not disappoint me. I love it!!! Your
music never fails to remind me that life
doesn't have to be like running on a
treadmill. ~ Doreen

Hi Michael, Think you should
include a pack of Kleenex with your
CD or at least post a warning to
have some nearby...I can't stop
crying while listening...It's rather
embarrassing at the gym...try to
pass it of as sweat. Thank you for
enriching my life with your
beautiful music!!
~ Sincerely, Dennis

Dear Michael, today I finally had the time
to listen to your new CD from start to
finish. It's wonderful, absolutely
wonderful! Your new release lifts my heart
and soul. ~ Wendy

I have been listening to The Way Out West
since I received it a couple of weeks back.
It is excellent! It may end up right up
there with my long-time favorite Face Up in
the Rain. ~ Philip

Buying CDsBuying CDsBuying CDs

What if you could get everyone on your
holiday gift list something you could be
absolutely sure they do not already have?
(it's only available to my mail list up till
now) And better yet, something joyful and
rich that would comfort and inspire them?
Yep, I'm talking about The Way Out West.
It's an album for everybody, every age and
walk in life. I've heard from kids and
teenagers who love it - and people in their
late 70s.

Also, if you need several gifts, on my CD
ordering link there is a special category
called, The Hunnert Bucker, where you may
buy 10 copies of any one title for $100.
That is a discount of $70 and allows you to
give to ten of your friends and family for
only ten bucks apiece. Plus, when you order,
if you give me the first names of the ten
you wish to give to, I'll sign and
personalize each one.

NOTE: if you want a copy of my new CD but
are going through a difficult financial
time, just
email me and we'll work it out so
that I can send you a copy now and you may
mail me a check a little later, when you
can. It's a small gesture, I just know that
my music has been a good friend to a lot of
folks over the years, and if you want it I'd
like you to have it - whether I'm paid yet
or not.

Howdy my friends, after weeks of
snow and rain and ice and wind and
floods, it occurred to me that it
might be about time to wash my
truck. I know, it sounds insane this
time of year, doesn't it? Now, don't
get me wrong, I'm no finicky car
owner. I once drove a car seven
years without washing it. Even went
two years without checking the oil,
but that turned out to be a costly
mistake. Anyway, I've recently begun
to notice people starting to stand
and gape whenever they walk past my
vehicle, so I thought maybe I should
hose 'er off a little and scrape
some of the muck off the
undercarriage. Yesterday I drove to
my favorite self-car wash. I say
"favorite" because it's the only one I can ever
remember how to get to. There were half a
dozen other tortured souls there too, all sprayin' and scrubbin' away, not for
themselves, but for the benefit of family
and neighbors, I'm sure. There was a measure
of satisfaction in our shared misery and I
made it a point to nod knowingly every time
I'd catch someone else's eye who was also
chipping away at hard sticky stuff on the
bumper.

My pooch does not
like car washes. She does not like to be
enclosed in a vehicle when there is a fan of
high pressure soap scoring the paint and
blasting the windows. I've tried holding her
while I do this, but it is incredibly
awkward to do and besides, it looks like I'm
using her as a scrub brush and I get lots of
honking and angry yelling from folks driving
by. Of course, I'd never use my little
Bungee Dawg as a scrubber. Though I'll admit
that I did once sop up some water in the
kitchen with her. She didn't mind, it was a
hot day and the water was clean.

I always try to
insert as few quarters as possible whenever
I go to the car wash. I could easily go to a
real car wash where the vehicle goes through
a shower and workers dry it off and vacuum
it out, but that wouldn't be manly. I don't
even know why I think that. I believe it
dates back to my father and how he never
paid anyone to do anything he could do
himself. Though I don't go that far - I'm
happy to pay someone to cut my pizza into
bite sized pieces, for instance - I do
somehow associate washing one's car with the
act of being a man. Please don't question me
too extensively on this, I'm aware that it's
sexist and cannot be backed up by any
logical thinking. Still, it's just me
against the machine that eats my quarters:
machina a mano. You absolutely have to put
in a minimum of $2.75 just to begin. Which
is stupid, I think. What about all the
business they're missing with people who
just have a little something to spray off, a
coke spilled down the side of a car door, a
big squishy dog turd smashed into a floor
mat? These are matters which, if a person
could pop in say, fifty cents, and spray off
in a minute, I think would be considered a
highly valued public service. But no, you've
got to put eleven quarters in just to spray
anything at all. Years ago I could do a
whole car on that initial investment. I'd
strategize before I put in the quarters and
get a running start. Sometimes, and I swear
this is true, I'd stop first as a gas
station and, using the windshield squeegee,
would give the entire car a quick going
over. Bumpers, fenders, hood, trunk, windows
and doors. Other gas customers would look at
me in awe. Then I'd dash next door to the
car wash, put in my eleven quarters and
whisk that puppy clean as a whistle just as
the last mist leaves the pressure nozzle.

Well, imagine my
disgust yesterday, my uncontained
irritation, as the warning beeper started in
after only getting the front end washed. I'm
not kidding one bit! I ran back and stuffed
in four more quarters. If you wait until the
water stops, you have to do the whole eleven
quarters again and there was no way I was
going to be that stupid. You should have
seen me. I was running in circles around
that car. Switching out from wetting down to
running that awkward soaping brush-on-a-hose
that they force you to use, I doubt anyone
could even see me, I was moving so fast.
Then the beeping started again and I
couldn't believe I had to put more quarters
in it! A big handful. I hurried back to the
nozzle and started spraying away huge piles
of soapy bubbles. Unfortunately, I noticed
something I hadn't before: my wheels. Now, a
really manly man, a man raised on Nascar and
overhauling his own engine, will tell you
that a car with dirty wheels and tires is a
shameful thing to drive. I didn't know this
for the longest time. I thought you could
get the paint and chrome clean and shiny and
that was that. But no, my friend, Carson,
informed me one time as he looked pityingly
at my tires and bent down with his own
scrubber and began to scrape away what he
clearly thought was the most shameful part
of my character. He even had a special soap
for wheels and tires. Really? There is a
special soap?

So what I'm trying
to tell you is that I cannot forget that
day. And so now I feel less a man when my
wheels are dirty. As I sprayed off the last
of the soap and grew proud that I was not
going to have to put in any more quarters,
that damn beeper started up again. My wheels
were not nearly clean. I don't know how they
got greasy, do you? Have I been driving over
hamburgers? Pork chops? I just drive regular
streets and stuff man, I don't drive down no
alleys where they toss out french fry
grease. I reached into my pocket and pulled
out another dozen quarters and stuffed them
all in, cussing the damned machine as I did
it. "What a scam! The sign says, 'self car
wash - $2.75!' but you couldn't even wash a
bucket for that!"

I worked on those
wheels until the beeping began again. After
the first beep you have about thirty second
left. I went into triple high-gear, running
that soaping brush over the wheel I was on
and dashing to the next one like a gazelle.
Then the pressure went off. I had no choice
but to accept that I am not much of a man.
Those greasy soap bubbles were all the proof
needed. I had no way to wash them off. I
knew guys all over town were going to be
laughing at me, pointing, pronouncing me a
pansy. But there was no way I was going to
go for more quarters. I just put on my
sunglasses, pulled up my collar and held my
pooch up by the steering wheel. I gunned
that engine and took off, running over the
soaping brush, water and soap spraying in my
wake. I leaned my seat way back so I could
see just under the wheel and let the whole
world think my dog was driving that dang
greasy, soapy truck. Instead of laughing at
the half-a-man spraying soap bubbles, maybe
people would just think it was a pretty
smart dog driving that rig.

This part I really
don't want to admit to, but if I'm going to
ever get through all twelve steps, I guess I
have to fess up. Hi, my name is Michael and
I just spent nine dollars and seventy five
cents at the car wash.

Videos on YouTube.comVideos on YouTube.comVideos on YouTube.com

with my true
love on Orcas Island

Though none of the above seemed to
have anything at all to do with it,
I'm very, very happy to have just
released my CD,
The Way Out West. My
sweetheart, Patricia, has produced
three videos of new songs and posted
them on YouTube. It's been great fun
to collaborate together and to find
that we can create something
visually beautiful and interesting
to accompany my new songs and help
share them with the world.

If you could see us at various film
locations, me, the mule carrying all
the gear and my guitar, constantly
checking my nose in the mirror for
"stuff"; her, contorting into the
most bizarre positions possible for
that perfect camera angle, well, you
might think we were a circus. We try
to keep unsightly things out of the
frame, but every once in a while
there is a little flaw. (like the
distant dog taking a poop in one of
the videos - I'm not telling you
which one, though) But the outcome
has been something we're really
proud of and I hope you'll take the
time to watch them. If you enjoy the
music videos, please pass the links
on to your friends and family on
your mailing list. We need lots of
help getting my new music out there
in the world. Below are the songs
and YouTube links.

Flag of Human KindnessFlag of Human KindnessFlag of Human Kindness

Like so many millions of people in
America and around the world, I feel
deeply blessed that we have Barack
Obama as our new president. When he
speaks I hear love and honesty,
honor and integrity. I hear a calm
center. These are qualities I admire
in anyone. To have a president who
embodies such qualities is beyond
our dreams.

I look at our new president as a
brother, a father, a leader for our
nation. Not someone who will do it
alone. Someone who will inspire us
to do the right thing more often in
our lives. Someone who has long seen
the value in neighbor helping
neighbor and who still does. That is
what we need in our neighborhoods
and cities, in our nation. We need
to remember that we are connected, a
part of something together. And that
we are the change that we are
waiting for.

The first time I played Flag of
Human Kindness for Patricia we both
wept. I knew then it was a song I
needed to share on the new record.
It took many months to find a way to
record the song that gave it the
emotion I felt when I sang it. In
recent weeks Patricia and I have
wondered how to present it in video
form so that the images do not
define the song, but compliment it,
help the message to be received on a
deeper level. She spent many hours
editing, exploring images and ideas,
sharing with me each version until
she'd found exactly what we both
felt was a beautiful accompaniment
to my song.

For months we'd imagined it as a
tribute to Barack Obama but we did
not realize it would be ready
precisely on the day he was to
become our president. Patricia
posted it on Inauguration Day, 2009.
Please watch and listen to it. Maybe
a few times. If you love it and feel
that it is something beautiful to
share with others, please send a
link to your friends. It is my hope
that it is a true reflection of our
growth as human beings in this
nation and an inspiration for our
new beginning.

And may I say to any of you who did
not choose Mr. Obama to be our
president, I understand your
feelings. More times than not in my
life the candidate I voted for did
not win. Whenever that has happened,
I have always said a prayer, asking
God to help make this person a
magnificent leader and to help me to
be able to support him. Whatever
your previous feelings, I ask you to
be a part of this new great swell of
hope for humanity and even life on
our planet. Don't waste one second
on nay saying or being cynical.
Instead, imagine having a trust that
something very good can happen, that
we can now become more connected to
each other and more and more a part
of this whole world of humans and
other living things. Imagine that
we, you and I, can become better
human beings than we have been in
the past.

Thanks for visiting, my friends.
I'll leave you with the lyrics to
Flag of Human Kindness. I hope you
find something there that you can
relate to and that brings you into
your heart.

From the wild Alaska sky
To the muddy Rio Grande
To the stormy shores of rocky Maine
There lies a country

I was born here in this land
Under the flag of hope and freedom
Now it seems such a faded dream
Like a dream that's lost it's
meaning

In the early morning sun
There are many men and women
Waking up in more ways than one
To say where are we going?
Where are we going?

There's a time in every life
There is an age for every nation
When her patriots must stand aside
And say, "first, we are human"
Are we not human?

And in the dawning of this
hourAnd in a clear, undoubting voiceIf we can still this ever raging
noiseFor our human raceI know we mustWho will mend this weary place?It's surely us

We can cast our bitter blame
Or we can just do what is needed
Pray the embers that still remain
Become once more a beacon

It's not us against the world
No, it's everyone or no one
There is a braver flag to unfurl
It's called the Flag of Human
Kindness
Human Kindess

And in the dawning of this
hourAnd in a clear, undoubting voiceIf we can still this ever raging
noiseFor our human raceI know we mustWho will mend this weary place?It's surely us

April 11,
2009

Howdy my
friends, I was taking one of my springtime
urban adventure hikes around Seattle the
other day and just at the end of my
three-mile route, came upon a steep stairway
of two-hundred steps. Really, it's more like
a mossy, concrete ladder, so nearly straight
up it goes. There was a time when my pooch
and I would head up that dark incline in a
race with each other but she's a little
older now and in the last few years I've
started carrying her little fuzzy self up
those slippery steps. She's come to expect
this and sits there on the first step gazing
off nonchalantly into the distance,
confident that I will take care of all her
travel needs.

As
we were approaching the stairway I heard the
sound of two boys' voices up above. I
couldn't make out what was being said but it
seemed a somewhat emotional exchange. I
looked up through the leafy corridor and saw
what had to be two brothers. There was no
mistaking the resemblance between them, but
even more solid proof than noses was the
exasperated whine the younger one was
emitting as he and his brother were
attempting to lug their bicycles up the
difficult steps. Young boys only dare that
pitiful style of whimper in the presence of
family, they would die before they would let
a school mate hear them do it.

The elder
brother, from the irritated expression on
his face, thirteen if he was a day, was
managing his portage fairly well. Pausing
every five or six steps, but making
definable progress. The younger, about
eleven from the tone of his whining, was
doing all he could just to lift his bike up
a step at a time. Sometimes he couldn't even
make that, straining and groaning and
whimpering as he tried to clear each
unforgiving right angle and gain another
eight inches. "I tole you I couldn't!" he
hollered up the hill. He was less than
thirty steps from the bottom. We're a week
into April. According to my rapid
calculations, using a stick in the dirt and
all my toes, I estimated that he'd be
mid-May reaching the summit. I don't have
children but even I know that's too many
weeks for a child to be out riding his bike.

I reached
down and snatched my little pooch off the
ground, allowing her to ride on my forearm
like she always does, her warm belly resting
against my skin and four skinny legs
dangling in mid-air. Then I took the steps
two at a time until I reached the
exasperated little boy, so nearly
inconsolable he was close to tears. I didn't
want to embarrass him by making a big deal
of his predicament so I just said quickly,
"Here, take my pup, I'll haul your bike up
the rest of the way," like it was a trade
and very possibly one in which he was doing
me a favor. I wasn't positive that he'd go
for it, since I remembered my own mind as a
little Texan who thought letting on that a
task was too much was the same as calling
Uncle! His eyes opened wide and he gasped as
much of an "Okay!" as he could manage. "Hold
her very carefully, now," I said, then I
heaved his mountain bike up on my shoulder,
momentarily shuddering under the weight.
With my eyes bulging unnaturally I began to
trudge infinitesimally upward, much as a
tree sloth would, only less quick. It was a
heavy bike. Don't ever buy your kid a
bicycle that says, Made in Mongolia.

I've
climbed those stairs for over ten years now,
and even without thirty pounds of cast iron
on my shoulder, I'm huffing and oozing sweat
by the time I reach the top. With that
awkward, dead weight draped over me at
back-stabbing angles, I felt like a man
caught mid-torso in a bear trap. What if I
lost my footing on the slippery moss steps
and fell backwards? In that tangle of wheels
and metal tubes and handlebars, would there
be anything to stop me before I clattered
and howled all the way to the bottom, trying
to cough up a bicycle pedal in time to warn
the UPS driver hurtling over me? Well, maybe
I get a little over dramatic sometimes. I
really did start resenting the eleven year
old though - in a way unbefitting a man my
age. What a lazy, good for nothing little
tyke! I thought for a second, but then
reasoned that I was a kid once too and so,
with super effort, I reined in my terror and
reminded myself that I could do this, that I
have a so-so equilibrium and am certainly
capable of lugging heavy metal up a hundred
and seventy steps if need be. Anyway, it's
uncalled for to curse a child and blame him
for my life-long fear of abrasions.

I
commenced to using all fours for steadiness,
reaching out with my front knuckles to graze
the stairs before me for steadiness and my
powerful hindquarters to lift. I felt almost
simian and much more at home in the mossy
forest that way, as if I were climbing an
ancient pyramid. Halfway up I grunted
wordlessly past the second brother and
prayed he wouldn't look directly into my
eyes. I had no idea what my animal instinct
would force me to do. I hoped at worst I
would give him a King Kong roar.

Finally,
I reached the top, then stood on my hind
legs, wheezing, hacking, chest heaving and
knees shaking. It was much harder than I'd
imagined it would be. Through blurred vision
I watched as the little boy made it up those
last few steps and handed me my somewhat
shaken pooch. I had to reach out three times
to grab the real dog. Then the boy said,
"Thank you, mister. I don't think I coulda
made it if you hadn't helped me." Man, when
a kid thanks you, it will erase all kinds of
mean, blameful thoughts and unfounded fears.
I felt like doing it all over again just to
hear that kid thank me twice.

The boys
rode away on their heavy Mongolian bikes and
I was extremely pleased that I'd gotten them
home before mid-May. Bungee looked mightily
relieved but also somewhat scornful of me.
Apparently, she'd been unsure of the trade
arrangement and thought maybe it was
permanent. I don't mean to do things like
that, but sometimes you just plain forget to
explain to your dog the whole situation in
all it's facets. I'm sure I'm going to hear
all about it in the truck on the ride back
home.

Back when
I first began writing these silly ramblings
on my website, about 1996, I believe, there
were not so many places for people to go and
read personal stories and thoughts. Of
course, blogging became massive and now that
everyone you know is writing their thoughts
online, it is less of an event to check out
individual websites. Still, I'm really
pleased that you do occasionally visit mine.
It makes me happy to write you and to share
stories. I think of the folks who listen to
my music as friends in spirit and so this
large and varied and growing community we
share of goodwill and great heart is real
and important to me. Thank you so much for
being in it and for reading my stories now
and then.

If you are
on one or more of the social networking
sites and would love to post my songs or
videos, please do. You have my permission
and I'll happily write you to give you that
if you like. I need your help and welcome
your willingness to share my music with your
friends.

My
beautiful sweetheart, Patricia, and I are
working on two new music videos for posting
online and on YouTube. We hope to finish
Valentine and One Breath soon. We've had
such a good time creating the ones we have.
I'm an immensely fortunate man that my true
love believes in my music and wishes to get
it out all over the world. We have a lot of
fun making these videos of our travels and
day to day love.

In
this strange and beautiful time we're living
in, I hope you are well and that you are
taking deep breaths, loving yourself and
sharing the overflow with the people and
living things around you. Thank you so much
for visiting.

Your friend in sunny Seattle,
~Michael

Seattle
Concert, May
2 -
Sunset Hill
in the
neighborhood
of Ballard.
Bring the
most folks
and you'll
win a
complete
autographed
11-CD set of
my music.

I'm beginning to
receive radio play
and Internet play
for several songs on
The Way Out West.
Soon I'll have a
list of those up and
would greatly
appreciate your help
in thanking these
stations.

My new CD and most
of my earlier
records are
available for
downloading at
iTunes,
RealRhapsody
and several other
paid download sites.
If you already have
the albums, it's an
easy and inexpensive
way to share an
album or even a
single song with a
friend. For 99 cents
you can send a
friend a song you
really want them to
hear.

July 11,
2009

Howdy my summertime friends,

I have
become a man with many dogs…and two of the
worlds largest cats. You know about my
little pooch, Bungee. Many a story has been
posted on this site over the years that
describes some event involving my loyal
pooch. We were lonesome ramblers, Bungee and
me, wandering and reporting our adventures.
And then of course, I met the love of all my
lifetimes, Patricia O'Driscoll - who just
happened to have animals galore that have
now become my animals as

photo by
Patricia O'Driscoll

well. There is the magnificent Golden
Retriever, Kobe, who is wise and kindly and
actually the most compassionate animal I've
ever met. But he is also a basket case in
many ways. Kobe fears things most dogs don't
and you cannot always recognize them in
time, in which case you may not have a
chance to tighten your shoulder muscles
before your arm gets flung like a whip and
King Kobe has turned and hauled ass the
other direction. For example: Patricia had
taken him to a park a few days ago. There
was a children's birthday party going on and
someone called out for her to come over and
visit. She walked toward the party smiling
that radiant smile of hers which, upon
noting certain dreaded no-nos at the party -
Balloons! - became a grimace of terror. She
frantically turned to cover Kobe's eyes but
was, tragically, too late. Kobe, a 90-pound
golden for whom pretty balloons bring night
terrors, had stretched the leash and
Patricia's arm to twice their normal length
and was already halfway home. Patricia,
being hurtled horizontally out of the park,
was unable to adequately explain to her
friend why she must leave yesterday.

Then there is the highly friskilated
little King Charles Spaniel, Lula. Also
known as "Lulee", "LuLu", "Doody-Do" and
"Don't Do It, Doody!" The latter is the one
most often uttered around here. We just
watched a segment on a dog show pertaining
to King Charles Spaniels and their history
and their nature and temperament. They are
said to be the sweetest breed of dog around.
And this is true. She is mighty sweet. But
nowhere in the program did they mention
fetching. This seems to be a singular
aberration belonging, not to the breed, but
to Lula and she alone. One dare not say any
word that would describe a round, circular,
spherical object of any kind smaller than
the earth or there shall be no rest forever.
Of course it started with a ball. (which I
shudder even daring to type here - she is in
the house now and though I have no reason to
believe she has attained a comprehension of
the written word, I cannot with confidence
rule it out.)

photo
by Patricia O'Driscoll

As I say, it began with "ball." (whispered)
Oh, how very innocent seeming the word once
was. A tennis ball to be specific. But oh,
how we rue the dreaded day Patricia
originally thought it might be fun to toss a
fuzzy little yellow-green orb down the hall
and see if Lula might want to chase it. A
monster was born. Not monster like you're
thinking; hoary, slime-drenched, gaping
jawed beast of swamps and caves. No, this is
something far worse. I'd take one of those
swamp monsters in a second over "Don't Do It
Doody!" when she's got fetching in mind.

We found that there is no good way to
end this game of throw, throw, throw, throw,
throw, heave, toss, roll, gasp, nudge -
until your arm is falling off. In fact,
hoping to wear out the sweet natured
fetching-junky, Patricia acquired one of
those plastic throwing arms with a cup on
one end for the ball, made so that you could
throw long distances and wear out a dog much
faster than with your very vulnerable human
arm. She almost had to go to the hospital
after one session of throwing with that
device. It seemed not to tire "Don't Do It
Doody!" in the least. Patricia's shoulder
was so wounded that the contraption has
never been used again.

photo
by Patricia O'Driscoll

Hiding the ball was tried early on but
something almost otherworldly exists between
"Don't Do It Doody!" and that damned tennis
ball. She uncannily knows where it is! I can
understand her sniffing it out behind the
couch or in the clothes hamper - or even
flushed down the toilet as I have done in
frustration - but on top of a seven foot
tall refrigerator? She's not even a foot
tall but I swear she found it! She was in
another room sleeping one morning and I was
up early and saw the ball. I looked around
and frantically lunged for it, hid it in my
shirt and looked around for some place that
she might never find it again. Standing on
my toes, I reached back toward the middle of
the top of the refrigerator. I placed the
ball there. To my utter horror, later that
morning she was clawing enamel off the front
of the refrigerator door, looking toward the
top and whining and growling. Oh yes, that's
the other thing, this sweetest of sweet
creatures growls when she wants you to throw
the ball. So you're looking at this
delightful creature at your feet, all
softness and prettiness, and she curls up
one side of her lip like little Elvis, and
growls, looking from the ball to you over
and over again until you give in and toss
it. Currently, there is no resolution to
this horrifying dilemma.

photo by Patricia
O'Driscoll

There are also cats. Now, when I say "cats"
you're thinking kitty cats. I'll guarantee
you're not thinking of Cooley. Unless during
a jog in the ravine you've encountered a
cougar, you have never seen a cat outside a
zoo the size of Cooley. There are two of
these large cats and if you only saw Jimmy Fi-Fitty (named so because he cost $550 when
he was a tiny kitten), your comment would
lean toward beauty. That, despite his size,
being the most dominant feature of Jimmy
Fi-Fitty. He is a mostly white cat with a
soft gray raccoonish mask and you look at
him and know for sure that he must have
descended from royalty. Cooley is beautiful
in a different way. He is BIG beautiful.
Cooley weighs 28-pounds. You got that right,
podna. A 28-pound cat can do what he wants.
If you're lying on the couch reading the
paper, Cooley will walk right up on your
body, under the paper and up your chest and
purr right in your face. Then he'll plop
down and that's where Cooley is hangin' out
for a while, my friend. He currently has
been groomed in what is called a "Lion's
cut" and it is somewhat intimidating to see
a 1/10 scale version of an African Lion
walking around the house.

When Cooley is not wearing his summer Lion
Cut, he looks at least twice his real size.
Repairmen visiting Patricia's house have
been known to see Cooley saunter into the
room and actually jump, holler and scream
out, "What is that?" It's happened. Cooley
and Jimmy are Ragdolls. That's an actual
breed of cat and they are known as the most
docile and calm of domestic cats. That is
the luckiest bit of news I can possibly
imagine because if they weren't, well, I
might not be here to write this.

So
this has been just a little trip into my
life and the animals that have adopted me
since I found my true love. My sweet Bungee
Girl is doing very well and has grown a
little more independent with age. Let's just
say she's figured out that she can take her
time when I say, "come!" and there are no
real consequences to her dawdling. But isn't
that really something we all earn if we live
long enough? Don't we earn the right to not
jump quite so high or come quite so quickly
when demands are made upon us? Patricia
tells me that she and I have entered the
"Ointment Stage of Life." I think I've also
entered my "I think I'll just kind of take
my good ol' time
getting there" stage as well.

Thanks
for checking in on me. If you scroll down
I'll tell you a bit about the progress with
my newest CD, The Way Out West. And I've
written something I hope my serve you in
these unusual times we're living in. I hope
you got a few chuckles out of my story
telling today.

Your friend, ~Michael

Most
of you know that I
released a new full
band CD a few months
ago called, The Way
Out West.
It's music that
means a lot to me. I
spent two years in
the studio working
steadily and
lovingly on bringing
this new recording
to life. The
response from folks
who've bought it has
been extremely
strong and it's been
such a good feeling
to know that people
who loved my very
earliest music love
this new music as
well.

Promotion is a slow
process, but
Patricia and I are
steadily finding
more and more places
to send the CD.
There is so much
that is different in
what is left of the
music bidnis than
when I used to
release my music
with record labels
out of LA and
distributed around
the world. Now,
almost all the music
store chains have
closed and fewer CDs
are sold every year.
Still, there are
many millions of
folks buying CDs and
I hope I sell many
more of this one in
the coming months.
For independent
artists, word of
mouth and visitation
to our websites is
really important. So
thanks to those of
you who've told
others about me.

Patricia has
posted four songs on
YouTube from the new
CD and we've gotten
really good
response. We've
created these
together, driving
around beautiful
places and imagining
scenes and how we
might present my
songs visually and
still allow the song
itself to tell the
story. I think we've
done that very well
and I'd love you to
see them. Several
major online radio
stations and music
organizations have
featured some of our
videos and there are
others who are about
to. If you haven't
seen them, please
click on these links
and view them. If
you like the videos,
we could really use
a great comment or
quote from you.

The record
has been getting
some great reviews
in Europe.
Many of them are in
foreign languages so
I've put the text
into Google and had
some of them
translated. One of
the best reviews was
by Wolfgang Geist, a
very well known
music reviewer for
RockTimes, who
called The Way Out
West, one of the
"Top 10 Albums of
2009". - I
hope it holds up the
rest of the year.

Another review,
from Mass Music in
Denmark, calls The
Way Out West a
"flawlessly produced
record" which he
says is so good
people should go out
and purchase it
without even hearing
it first. - I love a
recommendation like
that.

ALSO:, I've recently
been asked my
Sony
Television
if I'll agree to the
use of my song,
Sunlight,
to be used in an
episode of
The Young and The
Restless
which, I believe,
will be aired this
August. They have
nearly 5-millions
viewers per episode
so I'm excited to be
given the exposure.
I'll let you know
when I know the air
date.

Thank you for taking the time to visit.
It means a lot to me that the folks who
listen to my music also check by now and
then and see what I'm up to. I know that
everybody in the world has a blog now so
it's not the big deal it once was, but I
just enjoy taking some time to make you
laugh and let you know that I'm glad you're
out there in the world.

playing on Orcas Island last fall

Speaking of
the world, it's a time of great change and
none of us knows what is really going on and
how it may evolve. If ever there was a time
that called to us to be open to change and
ready and willing to live differently than
we have in the past, this is it. Just as
happens with your own body when you eat or
drink too much, when you don't sleep enough
or have too much stress in your life over a
period of time; there must always be a
leveling. A cleansing, a period when balance
is restored. To me, that is much of what is
happening in the world. I don't see it so
much in terms of good and bad as in terms of
what works and what doesn't. Ways of living
that only take, that only are concerned with
personal gain or fortune or freedom, by
their very nature require too much energy to
maintain for long. In this new balancing
that is happening, in our economy, in our
earth's cycles and atmosphere, in
governments and corporations and in
religions and communities; there is a
restructuring that is beyond any one
person's power to control. But I deeply
believe that as humble, open minded, loving
and compassionate human beings, we can each
be guided in ways that will help us live
with a sense of well being and kindness in
this time and find ourselves grateful for
what has come and what we are learning.

photo
by Patricia O'Driscoll

If you don't already, please begin to
breathe. Breathe in a new way. Breathe
mindfully. Breathe gratefully. If you don't
really know what that means, just trust and
breathe. I'm going to tell you something
here that sounds like I must surely know a
lot. It's not that at all. If you ate a
great sandwich and told me the cafe where I
could find it, I too could enjoy one. That's
all this is: If you will begin to pause when
you feel stressed or afraid, or angry or
lost, and breathe quietly for a moment. One
breath, two. As many as you can muster at
that time. I promise you that what fills the
space where your anger and pain were will be
something else, something of a higher
vibration. What is that? Maybe you will feel
it is God's presence. Maybe you will feel it
is your childhood grace returning. Maybe you
will feel it is a sense of peace and
calmness. Maybe all it will be is NOT your
anger or your fear or your pain. But I
promise you with all my heart that this
works. It's no trick, it's how humans were
created and it has always worked to some
degree and in some fashion. You and I don't
get to judge what that is or whether
something substantial happens. That is where
faith comes in and will always be a mystery.
But if you will try this for a while, a time
will come when you will know for certain, as
I do, that something good always, always
happens when you breathe and pause.

Be kind to yourself. Take some moments to
experience what is outside. Lean against a
tree or lie on the ground or go barefoot or
just stand at your window and watch a cloud.
(and don't tell me you see one that looks
just like a unicorn - that's just silly)

I hope this summertime is good for you
and that you have a magnificent autumn
heading your way.
Your friend,
~Michael

Sept
6,
2009

Howdy My Friends,

Ever since I
was a boy there was something about
September that would cause me to
take a big ol' sigh of joy. Which
was strange because I was born with
what they call "calendar syndrome."
Which is a disorder that causes you
to see the months of the year
backwards. To me, the month when
school started each year was
Rebmetpes. Doesn't that have a more
romantic feel to it than plain ol'
September? I loved all the months,
Yam, Yraunaj, Rebotco, especially
Enuj, because that was the month
that school let out. Fortunately, I
read most other things forward,
which is a big help when you're
driving and texting like I am right
now. I'm typing out this new
rambling as I cruise in the HOV lane
of I-5, heading into downtown
Seattle for pancakes. (Man, I love
me some midnight pancakes!) The way
I get by with taking the
2-persons-or-more HOV lane is pretty
clever. See, I just.put sunglasses
on my pooch. She's only 8-pounds, so
if anybody looks close, they will
figure me out. But so far, for
thirteen years I've been able to
take the express lanes with just my
pooch in the car. Her little
Ray-bans are darling.

The
leaves of the big walnut tree in my
front yard are starting to turn
yellow already. I was sitting out in
my sky chair yesterday, alternately
reading and just gazing up into
those big leaves. As much as I love
autumn, I sure hate to see those
leaves go each year. Walnut trees
spread out expansively. So all
spring and summer and early fall I
have a vast shady canopy outside.
I've got two canvas sky chairs
hanging from branches and it makes
the most cozy place to read and
visit with a friend. My sweetheart
Patricia and I sit out there
sometimes and play footsie just
'cause we can't help ourselves. But
mostly, neighbors see me with a
newspaper and my pooch in my lap in
the morning and just before dark at
night. I think I scare them
sometimes, quietly sitting out there
as the sun comes up. They go outside
around six a.m. to drive to work and
the neighborhood is so quiet and
still. Then I clear my throat and
rustle my paper and they jump like
something bit them. I sip my tea and
let out a big sigh, making sure they
know that they've really been
missing out by sleeping in so late.

This autumn I'm especially
grateful. Early in the summer I
badly injured my left ankle and for
six weeks could only get around in a
hobbling sort of way. First with
crutches, then later much as a man
with one foot in concrete would do.
Now, as of the last couple of weeks,
I'm back in fine hiking form and go
out most days and stride briskly
around this part of Seattle. I'm
really lucky living where I do. All
the surrounding neighborhoods are
beautiful and hilly with great long
views. Less than half a mile from my
house is a deep ravine with a mile
long trail winding through it
alongside a trickling creek. I go
there often and walk the length,
then meander through various trails
and neighborhood roads to get back
home. It's amazing to have such an
oasis of calm so nearby. When I took
Patricia there a few months back, we
had just crossed a footbridge and
stepped down onto the trail through
tall trees and ferns when she said,
"I'm so happy I just want to scream
out." I said, "Let's do it! Let's
holler like crazy!" So we did. We
cut loose and started hollering "Whee!"
and "Boy Howdy!" and "Yippee!" and
other intelligent offerings to the
wood fairies and sprites and
squirrels and trees. It was quite
exhilarating.

We hiked on
down the path to the main trail at
the bottom and began wandering up
it, toward the west end of the
ravine, which is a sort of fern and
tree covered canyon in the middle of
the city. About a hundred yards up
we saw these beautiful decorations;
flowers, flags and poles, on a
little bridge over the creek. We
stopped and admired it all but had
no idea what it was about. Then we
moved on and in another fifty yards
we encountered something out of a
Fillini movie. Strolling our way was
a quiet parade of human beings all
dressed up in finery. Many were gay
or lesbian couples, one partner
dressed as the opposite sex.
Everyone wore something beautiful
and bohemian. There were ribbons and
flowers and veils and capes and top
hats and tails, long dresses and
bustiers. Many wore make up out of
Cirque du Soleil and carried
bouquets of flowers. As we passed
the parade of probably seventy or
eighty friendly people, Patricia and
I looked on with wonder and delight.
Honestly, there was nothing on earth
that would have been more surprising
or delightful to see on that wooded
trail that morning.

Everyone was
very friendly, waving at us,
nodding, smiling. And I think they
loved that we were there to witness
them. We looked like little kids I'm
sure, smiling and gazing with wide
open eyes. What we were observing,
we later realized, was a May Pole
Parade. It was the first day of May
and these beautiful people had all
gotten up very early to don the most
bohemian clothing and decorations to
march into the woods for a
celebration by a big granite rock
alongside the silvery stream.
Patricia and I felt so fortunate to
have seen them. I said to her, "what
if no one but us saw that? What if
they only existed because we stood
on the trail and hollered out in
happiness and so this beautiful,
strange, lovely gathering of people
manifested right there before our
eyes for our own delight?" It could
happen.

Since I'm talking
about my sweetheart, I must tell you
this because I want to share
something so beautiful with you: I
have never been more in love with
her than I am now. We met nearly
four years ago, coming together to
create a fund raising concert to
benefit the folks hurt by Hurricane
Katrina, and we fell in love over
the weeks and months following that.
The amazing thing is that it is
possible to be more and more in love
with another person if you continue
to open your heart and share as
honestly as you can what your inner
life is. That's an amazingly hopeful
thing to me. To know that I can love
Patricia more and more in my
lifetime is about as great a thing
as I could ever imagine.

Singing to my girl

I
cannot help but share this with you
because I so believe that we have
the power and the intelligence and
the heart to open up more and more
as we live. I don't think people
really are destined to get numb to
each other the longer they are
together. I used to be afraid of
that when I was younger, feeling
disheartened that the newness would
wear off and that I'd miss falling
in love and the spark of excitement
that brings. Fortunately, I met my
Glimmering Girl, Patricia O'Driscoll.
But also, I grew up a bit and came
to understand the beauty of nuance
and to be grateful for the process
of growing into your humanity with
another person. To be in a
relationship where we both seek a
deeper connection with our own
hearts and each others, and are
willing to ask questions of
ourselves, to be honest about our
own healing processes and supportive
of each others is heaven on earth to
me. I guess the real word for all
this is "surrender." When you're
willing to surrender your judgments
and fears - and your partner is too,
well, that's when the deepest love
begins to happen. It humbles you and
that's where the good stuff all
comes in.

Last
week Patricia and I drove my 64
Malibu convertible out to Fall City
and taped some footage for a new
music video for YouTube. You may
have seen some of my other songs
there. The one we're working on now
is the song, The Way Out West. I'm
about to put my Malibu up for sale
after 23 years of fun in it, and we
thought it would be nice to get some
footage of my driving it and include
it in the video. Patricia is the
real creative mind behind these
videos we're doing. I just try to
stand and sing without looking
stupid. Plus, I retain the right to
burn all video that causes me to
look as old as dirt. That
arrangement works well for us.

We should probably have the new
video finished in a month or so and
I'll be sure and let you know about
it.

Top 10 Album of the YearTop 10 Album of the YearTop 10 Album of the Year

My new CD, The
Way Out West, recently received a
wonderful review in RockTimes in
Europe. It was named a Top 10 Album
of 2009! We are exploring a wide
variety of ways of promoting this
record. It's really the best overall
record I've ever made and Patricia
and I are doing all we can to get it
out in the world. We welcome your
ideas and connections. If you know a
reviewer or music writer or some
place where we should send the CD,
please let me know.

iPhone AppiPhone AppiPhone App

If you have an iPhone, I now have my own App. I
barely know what that is, but if you
have an iPhone you probably know all
about it. You can upload my songs
and videos, photos and more.

Seattle Concert in Honor of Healing ArtsSeattle Concert in Honor of Healing ArtsSeattle Concert in Honor of Healing Arts

I'm working on a possible
Thanksgiving concert in Seattle,
where I'll be performing with
accompaniment for the first time in
years. I have long had a vision to
do a concert bringing together the
healers in our community. Both
traditional
and alternative healers
of all walks into the same venue,
honoring the work they do and giving
them a chance to connect and get to
know each other at the same time.
This is just in the beginning
stages, but I'm hopeful it will
happen this year. I'll keep you
informed.

If you are in
the healing community and would be
interested in having a table at this
event, let me know. I'll soon be
looking for folks who want to have a
presence at the show in order to
share their own work.

Thanks for
visiting my website and reading my
latest rambling. I hope you're doing
well this season and remembering to
take a deep breath and be kind to
yourself. It's one of the best
things we can do for the world.

Your friend in breezy
Seattle, ~Michael

PS, I'll
leave you with the lyrics to my song
Things That I Don't Know. It's about
the end of summer, the dying of the
garden, the passing of time, and is
one of my favorite songs on the new
record. I hope you enjoy it.